


The Soft Apocalypse

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: "modern", Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Voltron, keith's alive he's just in space and mentioned one (1) time, lance is 30, same goes for allura, they're all old, written for shaladin secret santa over on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:30:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The whole "space war" thing took a little longer than they'd thought. It was, apparently, enough time for the apocalypse to blow over. And it was one hell of an apocalypse. Apparently.They're older, a little bit wiser than they were when they were paladins. A little bit more stupider, too. It has been an entire three years since Lance has seen Shiro, and yet he can't seem to say the words he wants to when the man appears on his doorstep.





	The Soft Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tookbaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tookbaggins/gifts).



“Sí, mamá, yo sé.”

 

A seagull squawked somewhere around the boardwalk, prompting its brethren to take up the call. Lance saw a tussle over a piece of bread, a flash or two of broad, white wing, and the victor took flight. The remaining seagull squawked again. Behind the old boardwalk, the afternoon sun reflected on a blue-green ocean. The sandy, rock littered beach lay undisturbed.

 

Almost three-fourths of the world’s population was gone, so they said. A fast-acting, fast-moving virus that turned people into easily crumbling zombies ravaged the American landscape—it didn’t stop at any borders, either, so the Canadians and the Mexicans and the Colombians and the Brazilians and everyone that fled to the islands got the flu, too. The Russians trained their missiles on the continents on the other side of the world in fear of the virus spreading to them. They didn’t think anyone was alive enough to return the fire.

 

Then, the earth finally revolted — sick of all the global warming, probably — floods, tsunamis, and earthquakes ran rampant over the land. The Himalayas crumbled. The Grand Canyon collapsed into itself. Apparently, the upper parts of Canada and some of Australia were entirely underwater.

 

Lance supposed it was all very poetic. He’d missed it, so he couldn’t say for certain. To his credit, he’d been in space.

 

Lance’s family had made it. So did Hunk’s, Shiro’s, and even Pidge’s mom. Keith didn’t have any family to make it in the first place, but he was mostly in space anyway, so it didn’t matter.

 

“Lance!”

 

“I’m coming! Geez,” Lance grumbled. He shifted the the box up further in his arms. “What’s so important about a few old books, anyway?”

 

Walking along the boardwalk always felt like walking through a memory. The lone seagull from earlier still stood there confused; when Lance stepped next to it, it flew away, squawking angrily. Mostly, things like that didn’t happen when he was thinking of home. God knows how often he’d thought of this place when he was up in the stars. Memories do fade with time, though, and the boardwalk was always more alive now.

 

Lance set his box down on the main table. Its surface lay stacked with boxes containing a range of blankets, board games, and old wires that surely wouldn’t work anymore. Pidge had said she would be able to find a use for them. Lance doubted that.

 

“Thank you, mijo,” Lance’s mother said. “You know I would have done it, but my back….”

 

“No problem,” Lance said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Anything else I can do?”

 

“No,” his mother said, exactly when Hunk called over the courtyard, “I got the rest!”

 

“Come with me,” said the old woman whose name meant hope. She touched Lance’s arm with one sun-spotted hand and didn’t let go for a while, not even when they had reached her tent and sat down.

 

“I am old,” Esperanza began, then repeated over Lance’s assurances that she didn’t look a day over thirty. “Yes, mijo, I am old. I have seen many things—what I thought was your death, all of the apocalypses, my first grandbabies. I do not believe I will see much more.”

 

“No,” Lance whispered hoarsely. “Mamá….”

 

“Shh, shh,” Esperanza said. “You are strong. You fought so hard, and for so long… just like your grandfather, and his grandfather before him. They have watched you in your battles and saved you from harm, but still. You have seen war first-hand. It is not easy, and not clean. I had hoped to give you something safe and warm here. When I leave you… you must continue to make this place good. Peaceful. _You_ will be in charge, mijo. Where there was turmoil in your life before, now there will be peace.”

 

“Mamá,” Lance said, because it was all he could say. He hoped his mother could feel all the words he felt when he smoothed back her gray hair.

 

“Say you will do it.”

 

“I will.”

 

Esperanza leaned back on their pillows and blankets they called a couch and closed her eyes. “Good.”

 

For a second, Lance was worried, and reached out to touch her shoulder. Esperanza chuckled and said, “I’m not dead yet, mijo. Still have a few years left in me.”

 

Lance would deny breathing a sigh of relief.

 

“Go. Isn’t there work to be done?”

 

Lance left with a quick peck on the cheek and a cheekier, “Always.”

 

* * *

 

“Yes, dude, this is going to help so much,” Pidge said, rooting through the tub of electric cords. “Do you think we can raid that RadioShack we saw, or is there some other technological nerd around here? _Besides_ us and Matt.”

 

“Go for it,” Lance said. Pidge and Hunk cheered to each other. “But tomorrow. We still have to get through all these boxes.”

 

“We’re saving the board games,” Hunk said immediately. “I haven’t played Twister in _so long._ And I can’t wait to kick your collective butts at Monopoly.”

 

“Mom and Gina will fight over the books,” Pidge said, referencing one of Lance’s sisters.

 

“They can have it,” Lance said, eying the heavy boxes. “The blankets will go in the common, but I think I saw a tarp or two in there so we can finally rain-proof the fire.”

 

“If we do that, we can probably also make another rain water collector,” Hunk said. “We’d need to use a few more buckets, though.”

 

“We’ll probably find some next time we raid the storage units,” Pidge said. “But in the meantime, go ask your moms if they’ve got any they can spare.”

 

Pidge and Hunk dissolved into their conversation on how to rig up a water collection system over a roaring fire with only two tarps. Apparently, the fire was not in a convenient location, but it wasn’t like they could _move_ it.

 

Lance thought to himself, _This is crazy._ He watched his friends start to argue schematics. It was hard to think about: Pidge was 28, Hunk and Lance were 30. They were old, they were adults; they became adults far away from any adults to guide them. Beyond their age, the war had changed them, made them stronger and smarter. They were all capable people, yet Lance never thought he would make it to twenty, let alone thirty.

 

The sound of boots on the ground broke Lance out of his thoughts. He turned to see Lisa (another sister) and Aaron (a brother) running across the courtyard to them. For some reason, they both liked to wear combat boots.

 

“There’s a guy at the gate who wants to see you three,” Lisa said, while Aaron caught his breath. “Asian, real tall, black hair, scar across his nose—” She crooked one finger across the bridge of her own nose to portray the scar she talked about.

 

“Shiro,” Lance said. He broke into a run, Pidge and Hunk right behind him, Lisa and Aaron right behind them. Aaron groaned the whole way.

 

Their camp was big. It could hold maybe a large villa or two, greco-roman style; it had to be large enough to hold three large families and some loose change (read: the one guy that was somehow related to all of them and brewed his own beer and tequila). Everyone mostly lived in small enclosements: large tents for long camping trips, but expanded upon and truly lived in. Some were decorated with scarves and carved pieces of wood; others had had books around the edges and more blankets than were really necessary.

 

All the space only meant that getting from the main courtyard to the gate took more than a hop, skip, and a jump. By the time he reached it, Lance was slightly out of breath. It had been a while since he’d really exercised.

 

Shiro stood there, on the other side of their simple barricade, a dusty road and a dustier car between him and the horizon. His hair had grown long, long enough to pull back into a messy bun, the streak of white showing the twists and turns. He wore a powder blue shirt and cargo shorts; not the best fashion sense, but then again, it was the apocalypse. And it was hot. He didn’t see Lance running up, his head was half-turned away. Most likely his attention was caught by the sliver of ocean one could see by the gate. In the afternoon sun, it must have looked like a sparkling diamond.

 

Lance stopped himself before crossing the barrier. Pidge, Hunk, Lisa, and Aaron had apparently decided to walk over; they hadn’t caught up yet, and when Lance glanced behind him, he couldn’t see them.

 

He tried to think of something to say, something witty and memorable. His traitor mouth said, “Hey.”

 

Shiro turned to look at him with those stormy gray eyes, a bright smile forming easily. “Lance! Merry Christmas.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s almost Christmas,” Shiro said. “Didn’t you know? Almost everywhere else, it’s snowing.”

 

“I had no idea,” Lance said. He pushed the barrier away. “Come in, come in. I’m sorry I don’t have any presents.”

 

“Spending time with you is gift enough,” Shiro said, that blindingly bright smile turned up a couple notches. “It’s fine. I did bring stuff for you guys, but really only for you and Pidge and Hunk and Matt.”

 

“Kind of you. We don’t have any rooms ready, but we can make one for you real quick—”

 

“No need, I don’t think I should stay the night.”

 

“What? No!” Lance started walking back to the main courtyard, checking every so often to make sure Shiro was behind him. “No way. You said it yourself, it’s almost Christmas! What kind of holiday would we have if we didn’t have it with you?”

 

Shiro coughed lightly, the kind of cough meant to disguise a laugh.

 

The sound of Pidge scoffing disrupted anything Lance was going to say, and also his half-offended gasp. “Darn it, Lance, you… you freaking gazelle. Didn’t let us say hi to Shiro.”

 

“Hey,” Shiro said.

 

“Hi,” Hunk said. Behind him, Aaron fell to the ground. Lisa lightly kicked him.

 

“Come on, you guys could have kept up easily,” Lance griped. “You’re just slow.”

 

“No way, dude, you freaking _ran,”_ Hunk said. He made a zooming sound and gesture with his hand. “We were jogging, but you ran like—”

 

“Like what, Hunk,” Pidge asked. “Like what?”

 

_“Anyway,_ it’s almost Christmas,” Lance said. Immediately, everyone’s eyes lit up, and he could _see_ their brains move to this newer topic. Even Aaron rose to sitting up, a big old grin on his face.

 

“No way,” Pidge said. “Seriously? Aw crap, I have a bunch of presents I need to make. See, I was hoping to have this project I was working on finished so I could give it to all of you so I wouldn’t have to make individualized presents….”

 

“It’s seriously Christmas,” Shiro said, immune to Pidge’s chattering. “I kind of forgot how many people there are here… I only brought stuff for the people I know. Tell everyone I’m sorry.”

 

“Tell them yourself, you moron,” Lance said. He looped his arm through Shiro’s own and resumed taking him to the main courtyard. “I mean it. You’re going to stay here until Christmas day, and then we’re going to give each other a bunch of presents, and it will be _merry.”_

 

“Lance has been threatening us about Christmas since we were little,” Lance heard Lisa whisper to Shiro. He glowered at her, but all she did was stick her tongue out in return. _Siblings._ Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.

 

“So you totally have to stay,” Aaron said, not bothering to keep his voice down. Lance turned his older-brother glower on him next, but the sound and feeling of Shiro laughing next to him kind of killed the glare.

 

Shiro looked like the happiest person in the universe when he laughed. He closed his eyes whenever he did it, and his nose scrunched up. He brought up his free hand to hide his unabashed smile, as if he were ashamed, but still didn’t care. His teeth were freaking _perfect,_ Jesus Christ.

 

Lance couldn’t tear his gaze away, so he missed the eyebrow wiggling and elbow nudging and knowing smirks thrown around behind him.

 

* * *

 

“You’re staying,” Esperanza declared, and that was that.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t want you to go through all the trouble of making me a room if I’m only going to stay a little while,” Shiro said. It was the only thing he had been insisting on: he’d be fine with parking his car (solar-powered) farther away in the desert, and fine with not having to cook or gather food. But the _room._ Jesus.

 

“You can stay in my room, then,” Lance said. “Let us take care of you for once in your life, alright?”

 

It was kind of useless to tell Shiro that people who come here don’t really leave. They’d only had a few visitors in the past three years, but the life here was easy, and they could even bake bread. Shiro would find out eventually—he was a wandering soul, but he was old, and it was the apocalypse. They were all old, and with age came a desire to settle down.

 

Shiro glanced over at Lance. His eyes, stormy as ever, wanted to read Lance, but Lance saw more in them than they saw in him. Shiro was conflicted. About what, Lance didn’t know, but he wanted something. His own moral compass was holding him back. It was kind of useless to tell Shiro about the needlessness of personal rules.

 

“Are you sure?” Shiro asked. He looked concerned, too, besides the conflict in his eyes.

 

“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure,” Lance said, sure he sounded more like Keith than he would have liked. He rose from the main table, still covered in boxes and tubs from the storage unit raid. “Come with me. I don’t think you’ve seen the boardwalk yet. It’s been awhile since we last saw you.”

 

Shiro stood up as well. “How long has it been?”

 

Lance took in Shiro’s long hair and prosthetic arm. “Too long.”

 

They were quiet in the short time it took to walk to the boardwalk. The sun was setting on the beach; the ocean shone with red fire and crystal-clear reflections of the clouds up above. A couple seagulls flew up above them; Lance tilted his head back to watch, wishing he could be as free as they pretended to be.

 

“Three years,” Lance murmured. “It’s been three years since we’ve seen you.”

 

“Oh,” Shiro said.

 

“We… we missed you, you know? You left so suddenly… Pidge and Hunk thought they’d done something wrong. You didn’t even wait for us to find our own families. What even _were_ we to you? I thought… after Voltron… we’d have something linking us together for the rest of our lives.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said.

 

“It’s fine,” Lance muttered. “We… I suppose I was worried about you more than anything.” He leaned on the railing of the boardwalk. “We’re paladins of Voltron. No one else on Earth can say that except for Pidge and Hunk. We still have this bond, even though Voltron is gone… I don’t want to lose that between us.”

 

He broke away from the boardwalk and the view from the ocean. “I know I don’t make any sense right now. My words don’t want to cooperate with my emotions, and my brain doesn’t want to work with my mouth, and it’s… it’s all just a big mess.”

 

He didn’t realize he was pulling on his short hair until Shiro laid his hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, Lance. I… I understand.”

 

“Then you’re one of the few who do,” Lance said, and pulled Shiro into an embrace.

 

They stood there for a while, letting the sun set around them. Shiro brought his arms up to hold Lance through his ancient jacket. Lance closed his eyes and pretended he was still young, still had the weight of the universe on his shoulders and not just the hopes of his friends and family. The seagulls above circled them, as if they were vultures, or a crown.

 

“Stay with us for a while,” Lance said into Shiro’s sweatshirt. _Stay with me a while._ “Until Christmas… and maybe after. We miss you.” _I miss you._

 

“I missed you too,” Shiro said.

 

* * *

 

“So this is my room,” Lance said, showing off his tent and the foldable chairs outside. “Nothing special.”

 

“I slept under a rock in a storm once,” Shiro said, looking around the space in wonder.

 

“Wow,” Lance said.

 

“This is perfect.”

 

Lance laughed softly to himself. “Thanks. I tried.”

 

Shiro sat down in one of the chairs, thankfully not the one Lance liked the most. “Why the chairs?”

 

Lance looked up at the sky. It was painted watercolor blue. “I like to look at the stars sometimes. It’s different looking at them down here than it is looking at them up in the castleship. I found this old book of constellations. Did you know I’m a Leo? It’s the astrological sign for lion. I thought it was funny.”

 

“I’m a Pisces,” Shiro said. “It means fish.”

 

“Huh,” Lance said. “Never figured you for a fish kind of person.”

 

Shiro shrugged. “I like eating them, but other than that, I’m not really a fan.”

 

“Huh,” Lance said. “Have you eaten at all today?”

 

Shiro stayed silent for a long, long moment, until his stomach rumbled.

 

“We have some bread in the pantry, give me a minute.” Lance sighed. Jesus Christ.

 

He left Shiro to look at the twilight sky. Most everyone else in the camp was getting to sleep by now; the sun set late out here, like it always did. Even though it was Christmas.

 

Lance paused and looked up to the sky. Christmas already? Three years already? He’d only met the Blue Lion yesterday. Is this what growing up felt like? That time was falling out of your reach, the hours and minutes running past you like they were trying to win the Olympic gold medal? That the people you loved were shooting up like rockets, while you were still just a kid from Cuba? That you would hold onto the words you want to say, even when the person you wanted to say them to was right in front of your face?

 

“I’m growing up,” Lance whispered to the night sky, then went to fetch some bread for Shiro. He would say his piece tomorrow: the “I love you”: and deal with the consequences when they came.

 

The camp’s fire threw up sparks, not nearly enough to scorch the newly erected tarps around it. People lay in their rooms, surrounded by the things and people they loved. Beyond the camp was the rest of the world, or what was left of it, at least. No one knew what was going on anymore, not in the soft apocalypse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

END

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was written for the [shaladin secret santa](https://shaladinsecretsanta.tumblr.com/) as a gift for [Amarilly](http://amarilly.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr. Many thanks for [Ashley](https://waves-of-colorful-ashes.tumblr.com/) for trying to beta-read. (I'm sorry!!!!)
> 
> If you have the time, go check out my other Secret Santa works! I have a Heith Star Wars AU, and for fans of the Raven Cycle series, a Bluesey Buzzfeed Unsolved AU. Anyway enough self-promotion ~~please read my works I'm gonna cry~~
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Come and talk to me on [Tumblr](https://reaadmydumbfanfiction.tumblr.com/) if you'd like. It won't instantly kill you if you talk to me I promise. My god you guys


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